


A Kiss Is A Taste

by anexistence



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Oops a bit of cheating, Summer AU, Summer Camp, Underage Drinking, barchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anexistence/pseuds/anexistence
Summary: Summer has the potential of wasting away boundaries people set. And wine is a nifty little helper.Aka.What happens when Betty and Archie find themselves on the other side of the country, enjoying their summer away from Riverdale drama? And what if it's fate after all?





	1. I Want It All

_Jughead, Jughead, Jughead._

Betty’s drunk brain can only chant the name so many times before it becomes redundant. And Archie’s arm can only be wrapped around her shoulder for so long until it starts burning her skin away. At least that is what he feels like. Not even the light breeze coming from the lake can end the insufferable warmth spreading from his skin onto hers. She would wiggle away if there were an ounce of control in her body. Alas, it left five glasses of wine ago.

Sweet, summer wine. Josie’s cousin, Paula, managed to supply the camp goers with a few bottles. Perhaps a few dozen is a more accurate term, but even that dose seemed to have become too little too soon, Betty ponders drowning out the conversation. Beside her Archie’s laughter booms and she turns her head to face him. He looks a bit goofy, as handsome as ever, but his eyes are halfway shut and the smile on his lips is as careless as he has ever been. As careless as she remembers him being, a year or so ago, before the Lodges moved to town. Before many unfortunate things happened. Their parents had been right; sending them away to a camp on the other side of the country was good for them. It was liberating.

And she only misses Jughead when she is not with Archie. Which is slowly but surely starting to become never. Betty would feel guilty, if she had the time to remember to feel guilty. Guilt only creeps up in the most questionable of moments. Even then though, it is so easily ignored. For a day Betty even forgot that Veronica wasn’t there because Hermione straight up moved the two of them across the Atlantic. Forgetting seems to be much easier when you don’t see the person daily. And when the reception is so ridiculously unreliable that sometimes you have to climb a tree to text your overbearing mother.

Forgetting is easy when it is what one wants to do, deep inside.

Betty sips on the wine, Archie’s arm slung over her shoulder still noticeably hot, and she thinks that this part of the summer will be okay. It will be just like it used to be, back when they were all kids, Archie, Josie, Kevin and her… with some wine mixed in for good measure.

_Jughead._

A stray though. He refused to come. He refused to come because there was Serpent business to take care of, and the beef with his mother had outgrown the size of the Riverdale. His priorities seemingly shifted during the past few months. Shifted towards the fixation to run his mother out of town, fixation to make Serpents better, fixation on achievements that seemed to serve as distractions.

But Betty… Betty’s mind was fixed on enjoying herself.

“More,” she says, extending the empty cup towards Kevin, the man in charge of inebriating the rest.

“Slow down, Betty,” he says, filling her cup up to the brim. “Wouldn’t want you letting loose too soon.” And the blonde girl can’t tell if she’s imagining the suggestive look he gives her. As if he _knows_ exactly what her mind has been up to for days.

“Shush up,” she winks, seemingly immune to his friendly jabs.

“Only if you drink up.”

It’s a silly challenge, Kevin barely expects her to chug the wine down in some frat style stand off. But Betty is focused, and she is determined to have the best time. Which is why she squares her shoulders, holds her breath, and tips the cup over. A few drops of wine spill over her lips and drip down on her white t-shirt as she takes in gulp after gulp, though she can barely bring herself to care. Instead, she takes one last short sip that’s left, and flicks the cup towards Kevin. It hits him on the forehead with a resounding ‘pop’ and topples to the ground.

“Don’t test me again, Keller,” she nods, struggling not to show that perhaps chugging down that much wine was not a smart choice after all. Her stomach feels queasy for a moment, before she burps—or rather belches—and follows it with a loud giggle.

A combination of cheers and laughter engulfs their little circle, voices mixing together in the night. Kevin picks up the fallen cup and fills it again, and Betty feels Archie’s fingers play against her shoulder. He lightly pinches her skin, and it is enough to get her attention.

“You okay?”

“Peachy,” she grins at him. “But I might have to pee soon.”

Archie shifts, letting his hand fall on the ground behind her. This means that he is somehow even closer to her. “Me too. We can go together. You shouldn’t walk alone in the dark.”

“I’m not scared, I can take care of myself,” Betty exclaims, perhaps a bit offended. And, as if to prove a point, she pulls out a nail file from the small purse in her lap. “It has a dangerous pointy end, see?”

“You sure you know how to wield that weapon,” Archie bumps her shoulder lightly.

“Oh, I’m a pro.”

And it seems leaning her head on his shoulder is the simplest of things. Even if it does burn through her entire body. The continuous chant of a certain name ceases after she finishes the latest cup of wine, and as the clock ticks forward the circle grows smaller and smaller. Sometime between Josie and Paula leaving, Betty falls asleep, head resting on Archie’s thigh, her white shirt long ago covered in dirt and drops of wine. When she wakes up, uncertain of where she is, it is to Archie tracing soft circles on her back. Betty murmurs, half-asleep, something about going home. She hopes she does, because her brain is aching for her to simply let her head fall back onto his thigh and return to sleep. Even so, a bed would make a much comfier resting place.

In silence, they walk back to the centre of the camp. Until they pass his room, and he just keeps on going, to Betty’s utter, drowsy confusion.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he whispers, an inch from her ear.

So he does, and she lets him, and once they are standing before the door labeled 15/5 time seems to stop. Betty is halfway there, she has unlocked the door and all that’s left is for her to say good night, properly and friendly, and step inside. Yet, for all the sleepiness that clouded her thoughts minutes ago, she feels oddly awake.

Stuck to this one place. To the spot of ground upon which she stands. Stuck in this very moment, where she knows the scales are ready to tip.

And Archie, he’s standing there before her, as if he’s all knowing. He is standing before her as if he knows what happens next, although he barely has an idea. There is a look, hidden behind the haziness and stupor in his eyes—because he too is drunk and tired—that seems to be hoping. A look that she can not decipher, but deep inside Betty knows what it means.

He is standing before her, saying good night, but seemingly waiting on something. As if he is telling her that the ball is in her court now, except she does not quite remember him playing his serve.

A beat.

A step.

A kiss.

Her right hand is behind Archie’s neck, softly pulling him down, closer to her lips. For a moment it feels like he is frozen in place, shock coursing through his veins, adrenalin rising. Suddenly, Archie is fully awake and sober, his hands shifting and moving until he can pull Betty closer. The curve of her waist feels tiny in his hands and he can feel the doorknob press against his back.

And Betty pulls away.

“Oh, god,” she breathes, eyes wide but looking anywhere but at his face.

Archie steps away from the door.

“It’s fine,” he reassures her. It’s, really, more than fine. It’s fantastic.

“The big no-no, this… fuck,” Betty mutters, reaching for the door, tapping against it to find the knob.

“Yep,” Archie says, nods.

 _Maybe not as fantastic_ , he thinks, walking backwards as Betty fumbles at the entrance.

“Uh, good night… Arch,” she says as she finally manages to struggle her way inside.

“Good night, Betty Cooper,” the boy smiles, turning on his heel.

He wonders if it is too cliché when he touches his lips, where the faint taste of peaches and coconut still lingers.

 

* * *

 

 

The best way forward, both Betty and Archie decide without consulting one another, is to pretend as if nothing happened. They sit, the very next day, next to each other during guitar lessons, a class Archie so painstakingly does not need. A class he chose precisely because Betty had thought it would be fun, and he did not particularly enjoy the idea of pottery.

They sit next to each other, and they talk.

Archie corrects the way Betty is holding her fingers on the neck of the guitar, and him touching her hand so softly is almost as normal as it has ever been. Almost as acceptable as it used to be. Betty is almost left unbothered by the silly gesture, and Archie’s palms almost don’t sweat. Except that she has to take a deep, deliberate breath once her hand has been placed in the right position; and Archie rubs his palm on his shirt, half trying to make it look subtle, but mostly not caring if she notices.

 Clearly, boundaries have been crossed.

“You’re getting much better,” he comments nonchalantly, as they make their way towards the dining hall.

“Thanks,” Betty would blush had she not been acting completely shameless for the last 12 hours.

Awkward tension fills the air for the first time that day, but Josie is a quick save. She approaches them, a big smile on her face.

“There you two are.” She says it as if she knows they are hiding something. Except that, she cannot possibly know.

Archie greets her with a big smile, “Hey, had a fun morning?”

“Definitely,” Josie replies, grabbing a tray for herself and passing one to Betty. “The musical theatre class is such a relaxing way to start the day.”

“Guitar is pretty good too,” Betty offers, although unwilling to participate in the exchange. She bites her nails as they steer themselves towards food, and drowns out Archie and Josie’s chatter. It is quite fantastic how normal he’s been acting while she’s slowly devouring herself from the inside out.

“Betty?”

Josie’s voice snaps her back from her short reverie, “Hm?”

“I asked would you like to continue learning the guitar when we’re back home,” she nods her head towards Archie, who’s piling food onto his tray, back turned to the two of them. “I’m sure Archie would love to tutor you.”

For a reason, and she is quite sure which one it is, Betty’s pulse quickens. Her cheeks must be turning red, but she smiles softly.

“Yeah, totally,” she replies, as if it that wouldn’t complicate the situation further.

Archie has copious amounts of food piled onto his two plates, while Betty chooses a simple tuna salad.

“Is that all you’ll eat,” he asks quizzically.

“Come on, Archie,” Josie is too quick to answer. “I’m sure Betty’s stomach could use a break from all the wine.”

And as her gaze meets Archie’s, Betty knows one thing for sure… the tides have shifted, and the ball has been kicked off court. The ball is not even near the stadium. It’s anybody’s game now, and there are no more legal moves left to play. They both know what happened. They were both there. And it was, has always been, a joint effort.

“Oh, yeah,” she nods instead, looking away to smile at Josie. “I woke up so nauseous this morning; luckily I had some ginger tea to save me until lunch.”

“I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat a bit,” the other girl says in between two bites. “And lucky for you we have the afternoon off, so you can lounge away that hangover.”

If only it was as easily done, as it was said.

Because as much as Betty would love to lounge away her hangover, that much she can’t help but think about Archie’s arm around her shoulder and…

_Jughead, Jughead, Jughead._

This time it’s not her brain, because she has completely forgotten to text him. There is a sense of guilt that washes over her as she looks at the phone where three new unread messages glare at her. Typical Serpent update, a hello text, and a hope you’re having fun. Except, Betty is quite certain, he wouldn’t want to know the fun she’s been having.

She does as any other guilt tripped person does. Betty texts her boyfriend back, because that’s what good girls do. And then she opens the door to her room, regretting that her roommate—a girl she has seen only two times since she got to the camp—is nowhere to be found, and lets Archie inside.

“I come bearing goods,” he lifts a bag of sour cream crisps.

“I forgot to charge my laptop,” she groans.

Archie can’t help but chuckle, “It’s fine, we can watch it on my phone. If you don’t mind the size.”

And, as if to make things worse, Betty hears herself blurt out, “Well, you know what they say. It’s not about the size, it’s about the quality.”

The red headed boy stares at her for a split second before letting out a genuine laugh.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

Except that she doesn’t feel sorry, and she doesn’t even feel embarrassed.

“That was a bad joke, Betty,” Archie chuckles, plopping down on her bed.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she fluffs the pillows and stacks them so the two of them can both fit comfortably on the tiny bed. “I’ll make sure not to force my horrible sense of humour on you ever again.”

It elicits another laugh from Archie, “Please, don’t. Your horrible humour is the only thing keeping me going.”

“Is it,” she leans on her elbow, looking down at him. “That sounds a bit fake.”

“No, really, you make me feel much better about my equally bad jokes.”

And then he winks at her. Or maybe he just blinks, and her pulse is going mad all over again. And, why, oh why is she biting her lip while looking down at him… while he’s lying in her bed. It is beyond any reason, and Betty sighs deeply before throwing herself against the pile of pillows and prompting Archie to play the movie.

Only twenty minutes into the movie does she realize how utterly terrible choosing _Love, Rosie_ actually was.


	2. Strictly Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting over a kiss is never that simple...

The faint tan lines across Betty's shoulder blades captivate Archie's attention as he works to tie the knot. She is standing right in front of him, and he wishes she would have worn something on top of the bikini. He was not trying to ogle her, if anything Archie was determined not to let himself indulge too much in the situation because it was a friendly, platonic moment.

He stopped by to see if she was ready to go to the lake with everyone else, and Betty had been having issues with her bikini.

When she asks him to help, Archie can't do much but fumble around trying not to focus on the tan lines on her soft skin.

"There, all done," he finally manages to tie the piece in place.

"Thanks, Arch" Betty says and walks across the room unbothered. "Now where did I put my towel... Towel, towel, towel..."

He watches her as she rummages through her suitcase, and the strange feeling in his stomach from the other night makes a comeback.

"Ha," Betty stands proudly on the other side of the room, a towel in one hand, her beach bag in the other. "Found it!"

Archie hopes that his face does not reflect his amazement. It's just that he hasn't seen Betty this carefree in over a year. There was no time for carelessness, no time for fingers to graze across tan lines in hope of something. Now Betty is standing before him, as triumphant as she used to be when she would beat him—when he let her beat him—in a race to the park.

"What,” Betty asks, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, do I have something on my face? I swear I rubbed the cream in properly. There aren't any white patches left, right?”

It shakes Archie out of his reverie and he crosses the room to take the bag off her shoulder. "Your face is great," he tugs at the bag handle, and Betty lets it slip into his firm grasp.

If Archie tricks himself into thinking that her breathing seemed to quicken, or that she glanced towards his lips, he is rid of the thought quickly as his eyes catch sight of her phone at the bottom of the bed. The screen blinks furiously, the wallpaper observing them. His best friend's face is partially occluded by the two text notifications.

"We should get going," Betty locks the screen and throws the phone in the open suitcase. "Everyone's probably already at the dock.”

She pushes past Archie, skin brushing against skin, and if Archie has to stand back for half a second to take a deep breath, he tries to make it less obvious.

The walk is filled with awkward silence. Awkward yet comfortable. Except that neither of the two knows why they keep letting their hands bump into each other every few steps. It makes Archie’s entire arm tingle, but it's too late to just shove it into the pocket.

"There you are," Josie greets them from her spot on the dock.

"Hi," Betty sits next to her, dipping her feet in the lake. "Oh, the water is good."

And as if on cue, Archie sprints by them. A moment later he is gracefully jumping into the lake, head first.

"You know," Josie starts, and it's the tone of her voice that gives away what she's thinking.

"Josie," Betty wants to warn her. She doesn't want to hear whatever Josie wants to say.

"I'm not going to say anything judgemental, Betty," the other girl says. "But..."

Betty sighs, but Josie simply continues.

"But, I think," she pauses, "that we are all allowed to change our minds."

And isn't that a fact, Archie thinks, as similar sentence passes Reggie's lips after the two are a fair distance away from the shore. It makes for a curious coincidence, though no one is aware that the other pair is having a similar conversation.

"It's what I see," he says matter of factly. "In fact, I'm surprised nothing happened."

"I told you, man," Archie splashes him in annoyance. "It's not like that... At all."

"At all," Reggie chuckles.

"At all," Archie confirms, though it's harder for him to convince Reggie when he himself is unsure of what is going on.

"Okay," his friend says, swimming ahead, "if nothing at all is what it is, then that's some highly platonic cuddling you guys engaged in the other night."

"Friends do that?”

Do friends do that?

Do friends look at each other the way he looks at Betty? Archie knows the answer; he knows it off the top of his head. Friends don’t quite act the way the two of them do. Friends don’t get sweaty palms because they have to be close to each other, friends don’t notice the things he has been noticing about Betty.

Friends don’t kiss each other, is what Betty thinks when Josie leaves her alone with her thoughts. She joins Paula, who is lounging in a floatie she tied to the dock. She knows that the friend line has been crossed; the friendship has been done in by the kiss. There is no going back. Never again will the two of them be able to surpass this kiss. Because it is not like the others.

This kiss was not at all like the time they kissed when they were kids, she was the princess in the tower, and he was supposed to be a brave knight. Except that, he twisted his ankle on a puddle in the lawn, and landed in mud. A kiss always made everyone feel better in movies, so naturally a kiss was to be given lest the brave knight lose his left ankle.

The kiss was nothing like the adrenalin charged make out as they were chasing the Black Hood. There were no outside factors, no life or death situation. The only adrenaline Betty felt for the past 10 days was the night a few of them stayed up really late and started telling scary stories. Even then, it was never a thrill that would make one jump their best friend and all but hump them against the wall.

“Hey,” someone says and it’s Archie. Because, of course it is.

He is standing above her, and Betty needs to shield her face as he lets cold drops of water drip on her body.

“Hi,” she replies, looking away.

“You should get in the water,” he shakes his head, purposefully. The tiny drops hit her overheated back—the sun is quite strong—and she shivers at the difference in the temperature. “You’ll get a heatstroke.”

“I’ll be fine,” she smiles, splashing her feet as if to prove that she is, in fact, in the water. Technically.

“Oh, that’s certainly enough,” Archie chuckles, pondering whether or not he should do what he plans on doing.

A second later he convinces himself that it is, in fact, a perfectly good idea and then Betty is being swept up, bridal style. It’s not enough that Archie was standing before her, attractive and nearly naked. No, she has to deal with his bare chest pressing against far too much of her naked skin, as she tries desperately to convince herself that friendship is still an option for them. But there is little thinking one can do when they are being thrown into a lake. Betty flies through the air for less than a second before her body hits the surface. As soon as her head goes under the relief hits her. The heat leaves her body gradually, and the water feels like the softest comforter cradling her and shielding her from the sun. To her right she hears another splash, and knows right away that it has to be Archie. The boy will not leave her alone, and she does not want him to either. It seems to be far too late for such drastic decisions now, anyway.

 _It is what it is_ , Betty thinks, and breaks the surface to breathe in some air.

“Hey,” the red haired boy is, once again, invading her personal space.

“This is good,” she chuckles. “I had no idea I was getting that hot.”

“Psh,” Archie smirks, “you’ve always been hot.”

Betty’s eyes widen for a second, she bites her lip, “Right back at you, Andrews.”

And then she feels his legs wrap around her waist, and she’s being pulled underneath the surface once again. So, she holds onto his waist and either attempts to keep herself afloat, or pull him under with her. Either way works for Betty, but she knows she is not going down without a fight. Archie’s head dips beneath the surface and she sees him through the water, a blurry mess of red head as bright as ever under the rays of sun. There is just enough time for her to smile, let some water inside her mouth and then push towards the surface.

“Jerk,” she says as soon as his head too breaks the surface.

A goofy grin is plastered on his face, “What?”

“I could have drowned,” Betty says, though she’s not serious. There was no drowning potential involved.

“I would never let that happen,” Archie says as if it’s the most logical response. As if the words don’t echo on and on from the front to the back of Betty’s skull. The only thing present inside her clearly thick head for the few following moments.

“Ah, yes,” she mutters with a half smile. “My hero.” And adds a bit more drama to her voice. _Make it sound friendly, make it sound like a fun little joke_ , she thinks. As if things haven’t stopped being friendly already.

“Of course,” Archie says softly, observing the droplets of water on her face as she looks away. The ones that got stuck on her lashes sparkle in the sunlight, and he’s quite sure that the light-headedness he is feeling has little to do with the hot sun hitting his head.  

Later, in the evening, while the summer heat radiates off the still warm concrete, and the cool breeze from the lake makes the evening that more bearable, Archie wonders if Betty is doing it on purpose. Did she wear the blue dress again because she knew he loved it, loved her in it. He never told her this, a comment like that doesn’t occur naturally in a strictly platonic relationship. Still, it is a torture and he’s not sure what he did to deserve it.

“You’re staring,” Josie seems to be a fan of appearing ominously and stating the obvious.

“No, shit,” Archie shrugs, because what’s the point in hiding anyway. He has nothing to lose, and there’s nothing inherently wrong in observing a beautiful girl. Who happens to be your best friend. Whom you also happened to kiss. Not that Josie knew, nor was it any of her business.

“Oooh,” she smirks, taking a sip of her colourful drink. “We’re being very direct today.”

Kevin spins Betty around and she twirls away from him, as the blue dress spins around with her.

“Their dancing is very good,” he nods.

“Yes,” Josie agrees. “The dancing _is beautiful_.”

“You wanna dance?”

“Later stud,” she begins to walk away, only to turn back. “As long as blondie doesn’t mind.”

Archie shrugs his shoulders, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

The girl just looks at him, then shakes her head, “Don’t be an idiot, Andrews. You got it.”

And she leaves him with what she assumes is a cryptic message, to watch as the blue dress twirls along with the blonde girl. Alone with his thoughts of the girl, and her best friend, and his best friend, and the very many reasons why he should not be observing her.

“God, will you quit it with the heart eyes,” Kevin asks Betty as the last notes of the song fade.

“Wha-who? Me? What?” she blubbers out. Really smooth.

“Yeah, you,” he rolls his eyes. “He’s been brooding-slash-lovingly staring at you ever since we started dancing, and then you started stealing these pathetic glances at him. And honestly Betty,” Kevin drags her to the side, next to the small bar and starts pouring them two cups of juice. “I’m not here to judge you. God knows I’ve been the biggest Barchie fan—the _only_ fan—for the longest of times.”

“I’m sensing a but,” Betty says as Kevin hands her her drink.

“But you have to think this through,” he pauses. “It’s easy to get side-tracked here, and I just want what’s best for you.”

“Me too, Kev,” she rolls her eyes. “I’d just like a crystal ball to check what _‘the best’_ really is.”

It makes her best friend laugh, “Wouldn’t we all want that, Betty… wouldn’t we all.” And he turns and leaves her alone with her juice, completely confused at the sudden departure.

“Having fun?”

“Archie,” she spins around, and her dress follows suit. “So much fun. You?”

“It’s been okay,” he sips on his drink, “you must be pretty tired from all the dancing.”

Betty shrugs, “I’ve still got one or two good ones in me, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods, and wonders if Archie is aware that biting his lip makes her brain go dumb. He probably isn’t, and should not be. He would certainly bite his lip a lot more if he knew it made her go dumb. He must never know, Betty decides, because he’s been making her brain go dumb even without additional assistance.

“Oh,” Archie exclaims softly, “come on.”

In the background, the familiar beginning of one of Betty’s favourite songs carries on, and Archie’s hand slides into hers, palm against palm, as he leads her towards the dance-floor.

“I love this song,” Betty smiles.

“I know,” is all Archie tells her before spinning her around. And the blue dress follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's moreeee.. Finally, I do not disappoint entirely and this fic gets a second chapter. Since it started as a short one-shot, I feel like this is v great 
> 
> xoxo  
> Maja

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: she's back (and tired!)  
> Second of all: I know the US people probably drink more beer, but beer tastes horrible and wine can be wonderful. Wine is my best friend (after my legit real breathing best friends).
> 
> This may or may not continue, you'll have to stick around to find out.
> 
> xoxo


End file.
